


Alarm Signal

by AlexiaBlackbriar13



Series: Flying High [6]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Wings, Because I mean??? It's Oliver??? and a guy just threatened Felicity???, Established Oliver Queen/Felicity Smoak, F/M, Felicity has rhubarb cough drops, Happy birthday?, Is that a cliche? I feel like that's a cliche, Nah dude is gonna scare the SHIT out of him, SING for the mugger?, Sorry Masque this is a mess, Threats of Violence, What else is he gonna do, Winged Boy Saves Girl From Mugging, Winged Oliver Queen, Wingfic, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2020-04-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:21:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23691535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexiaBlackbriar13/pseuds/AlexiaBlackbriar13
Summary: When Felicity is pursued by a mugger late at night in the Glades, Oliver races to rescue her despite a strained wing.Another Flying High oneshot in which our feathered hero scares the crap out of the guy who dared to attack his love. HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MASQUE!
Relationships: Oliver Queen/Felicity Smoak
Series: Flying High [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/365216
Comments: 27
Kudos: 185
Collections: Quarantine and Chill Fic Drive 2020





	Alarm Signal

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thatmasquedgirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatmasquedgirl/gifts).



> HAPPY BIRTHDAY MY WONDERFUL MASQUE!!!!! wishing you all the best and sending you all the digital hugs because sadly i live across the Atlantic but also,,, gotta respect that social distancing ay
> 
> hope you all enjoy!
> 
> (i think this prompt was given to me way back by valin-dana, sakura-blossom62 and memcjo)

“I’m telling you, Oliver, I can’t find these chocolate aniseed candies you keep going on about _anywhere_ , in any store in the entire city,” Felicity sighs.

Her cell phone is nestled next to her ear, allowing her to talk to him as she walks down the street from the small twenty-four-hour bodega she’s just visited to pick up some late-night supplies to her Mini, which is parked a block away so she can avoid getting towed. “The closest thing they had were rhubarb cough drops, and I know you hate those.”

She smiles when she hears a clank and then a grunt on the other side of the line. Oliver has been trying to get himself physically back into shape by working out on the salmon ladder for a couple of hours every day; the exercise allows him to stretch and flex his wings, providing some physical therapy to help his strained left wing recover. Continuing to walk down the street, Felicity hums under her breath as she allows her mind to wander, imagining her courting partner half-naked and sweaty, his abs on full show as he flashes his wings - he still has his breeding plumage, with his beautiful iridescent dark green feathers and silver primaries - and tries to show off to her.

Oliver very much likes to preen like a peacock when he’s around Felicity these days. It’s something to do with a bird courting ritual, according to the research Diggle has done. The bodyguard is very much amused by the winged archer’s bashfulness with the blonde and helps her a lot when it comes to researching Oliver’s behavior.

Oliver snaps her back to the present with his complaint, “The menthol and eucalyptus oil in cough drops make my throat feel weird.” There’s another metallic thunk, and then the vigilante releases another huff down the line. Felicity rolls her eyes fondly as his dramatics, shaking her head with a grin as she spots her car in the distance. “How long until you’re back? I’m finishing up my work-out now.”

“Don’t you dare stop before I get back!” Felicity immediately protests. “I barely got to watch you on that salmon ladder for ten minutes before I went out for groceries.”

“I’ll take a break and start up again for you,” Oliver replies, breathing heavily. “My wings are beginning to cramp a little.”

“I’ll just have to massage them later for you.” There’s still a block to go until she reaches her Mini, but Felicity stiffens when she realizes that she’s being followed. By peering in the reflection of a window she passes, she’s able to see a dark figure tailing her, walking slowly about fifteen feet behind. Her heart quickening and anxiety and fear pooling in her gut, Felicity hastens her stride. “Hey, Oliver? Um. I think some guy is following me.”

“What?” His voice sharpens, dropping an octave. There’s an undertone of fury as he questions, “Where are you? I’m coming now.”

She relays her street location, swallowing harshly when she glances back to see the man behind her has picked up his pace to match hers. “I have pepper spray and a taser in my bag, and I’ve almost gotten to my car.”

“Get your taser out and stay on the phone with me.” She can hear the rush of the wind muffling Oliver’s voice on his side of the line - he must’ve taken off and is now flying towards her. But she knows he’s going to struggle to get to her quickly with that strained wing of his. Given that she’s only about ten minutes away from the Foundry by car, Oliver should be able to get to her in maybe five.

“Please hurry, but also _please_ don’t hurt your wing anymore than you have already,” Felicity says as she pants, now speed-walking.

Another one hundred meters and she’ll reach her vehicle. She reaches inside her bag as she’s on the move so she can grab her taser in one hand and her car keys in the other with her cell phone, so she can enter it quickly and hopefully drive off before her stalker can reach her. Felicity’s heart sinks in her chest when her next glance behind her reveals that the man is now silently jogging to catch up to her - and she sees the gleam of a knife in her hand.

She bursts into a sprint. “Oliver, he has a knife!” Felicity panics.

She cries out when she’s tackled to the ground directly in front of her car. Her cell phone goes flying out of her hand and she can hear her partner’s faint yelling on the other end of the line as it skitters across the asphalt. Rolling onto her back, she wields her taser and instinctively cowers when the man looms above her, pointing his blade down at her. She tries to tase his leg, which is closest to her, and starts shaking in fear when he simply ticks the device out of her hand.

“Purse and car keys!” he barks at her in a rough timbre, thrusting the knife close to her face. “Now!”

Felicity does what all of the websites and Youtube self-defense videos she’s seen advise when faced with a mugger - she chucks her bag as far away from her as possible. Her car keys remain hidden in her hand. She’s desperately hoping she’ll be able to scramble to her feet, get into her car and drive away when her attacker chases after it to grab her valuables.

Instead, the mugger glares at the bag and then peers back down at her with a murderous glint in his eyes. “You stupid bitch,” he spits.

He raises his hand holding the knife as if he’s about to bring it down into her shoulder. Felicity flinches and curls up as tightly as she can, bracing herself for the pain - but it never comes, because a giant mass of feathers crashes into the mugger from the side, yowling ferociously like a tiger that’s had its tail stepped on. Oliver, appearing out of the night and soaring down like a very pissed off avenging angel, pins the man by his neck with one hand while his other jabs a flechette to his collar, breaking the skin slightly so blood rivets down onto the ground.

“If you _ever_ touch her again, I’ll slit your throat,” Oliver snarls, his eyes incredibly bright and blue but also dangerously feral.

“Oh fuck,” the mugger whimpers. “You’re the angel. The Starling angel.”

“ _NOBODY HURTS HER ON MY WATCH! SHE’S MINE!_ ” Oliver roars. “ _DO YOU UNDERSTAND?_ ”

“Yes, yes, I understand,” he cries. “Please don’t kill me!”

Oliver steps on his arm and presses his weight onto it. The man whines in pain. Felicity cringes because she can only imagine how agonizing it must be. “How many women have you preyed upon in the Glades? How many people have you threatened, have you hurt, have you made feel unsafe on the streets of their home city? _Too many_ , I suspect.”

“Don’t send me to hell!” the man sobs. “Please, I wanna live!”

“You deserve _worse_ than hell,” the vigilante thunders.

“Oliver,” Felicity whispers, reaching out and gently tugging at his primaries from her position on the floor. She hates to admit that she gets scared whenever he becomes this angry, but she’s already trembling and terrified, and his rage is unsettling. “Please, you’ve scared the living crap out of him, I don’t think he’s ever going to try something like this again. Let’s just go home?”

Oliver growls fiercely in protest, but lets the man free. “Get lost,” he hisses. “And if I _ever_ see or hear you doing this sort of thing again, and trust me, _I will know_ , you’ll regret that I let you live this time. You’ll _wish_ I’d killed you.”

When the guy lurches to his feet to escape, Oliver spreads his wings wide, bristling feathers making his wingspan appear nearly twice their size. The mugger immediately soils his pants, tripping and falling as he tries to run, weeping his eyes out. Felicity gets it, really; Starling’s winged vigilante, who also happens to be her courting partner, can be absolutely petrifying. Oliver shields Felicity protectively until the man has turned the corner and vanished.

The instant that they’re alone, Oliver’s entire body language shifts. The tension leaks out of his shoulders and he visibly softens; he kneels to cup her cheek tenderly, and then carefully helps her back to her feet. The gentleman that he is, he picks her bag up once she's steady and turns to offer it back to her. His wings flare once again but wrap around her back to pull her closer to him, so he can place his hands on her hips and delicately check her over for injuries. Felicity closes her eyes as she feels the vigilante’s gloved fingertips brush over her face, down her neck, and over her shoulders.

“Thank you,” she murmurs, hugging him tightly around the waist. She was honestly frightened to death for a second back there that she was going to get stabbed.

Oliver’s eyes are wide with concern as they flit over her form. “Are you okay?” he asks quietly.

“Fine,” she answers, somewhat shakily. When he just looks more worried, his brow furrowing, Felicity tries to smile to reassure him. “Hey, you saved me, I promise I’m alright. That guy just pushed me over and waved the knife around a bit, he didn’t touch me otherwise.” She glances over his shoulder and gasps in horror when she sees the state his left wing is in. “You, on the other hand, mister, have dislocated your wing!”

Oliver blinks at her and then casts a swift look back at the limb. It sags and looks frail and wimpy in the jaded street lights. “It looks worse than it is,” he sighs. “I was more focused on speed than anything else, Felicity. You’re more important than a dislocated wing. I learned how to manage flying on one of those back on the island.”

She shakes her head, feeling utterly terrible that Oliver hurt himself in order to come and rescue her. “How are you going to get back to the Foundry? You can’t fly.”

“I suppose I’ll have to squeeze into your car again,” he grumbles, eying her Mini in distaste. They already know that he can fit into it - with difficulty - because of how they first met, in the QC parking lot. “I think I would be better _walking_ back, honestly.”

“With your wing the way it is, it probably would be better not to bend it at all,” Felicity muses. “My car should be okay here for the night. The streets are empty, there’s no CCTV around here…” She steps back and offers her his hand. “Let’s take the walk. I know a short-cut, it will take twenty minutes tops.”

Oliver’s lips twitch into a small smile. He drapes his right wing around her back possessively as he slides her hand into his, entwining their fingers. “Walking back it is.”

The two of them have never really been on a romantic stroll at night before, and it’s a little weird considering that Oliver did just save Felicity from being mugged a few minutes ago, but it’s strangely perfect at the same time. Leaning into his side so his heat radiates into her, Felicity wishes that she has a metabolism as high as Oliver’s while she uses her free hand to smooth down some of his ruffled feathers. As they walk together, she rummages around in her bag until she fishes out a little packet she stuffed at the very bottom.

“Rhubarb cough drop?” she offers with a laugh.

Oliver chuckles and kisses her fondly on the side of her head. "Sure, Felicity, sure."

**Author's Note:**

> thank youuuuuuu for reading hope you enjoyed it!!!
> 
> twitter: @lexiblackbriar  
> tumblr: @alexiablackbriar13


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